The sun, creeping up behind my shoulder
by Unholy Preacher
Summary: Short fic about the Korean Killing Hawk, following his story in Tekken 2.
1. A deal with the devil or the folly of yo...

DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are the property of Namco.  
  
Just as the weather forecasters predicted earlier that week, the rainfall was heavy in that part of South Korea that day. Baek ran his hand back through his long untied black hair, which was by now soaking wet. He stood just outside the cemetery gates, watching the rain assault the flowers he laid on the ground. His father didn't want them he guessed, and was now trying to rip them apart. He could never bring himself to go inside the cemetery. He had no right to; not after what he had done.  
  
Baek could still remember that night. They had an argument. He couldn't even remember what it was about. But it was an argument they had had many times before. He was angry at his father just sitting in his wheelchair, weak. Not the man he once remembered and looked up to as one of the best Tae Kwon Do experts in the world. Now he could barely support their family, which was spiraling down further into poverty. His father said something to him, something that had hit a nerve. And then, he just lost it. He struck with every attack his father taught him, the same man he was beating now. He could hear his mother crying, shouting for him to stop. She grabbed his arms trying to restrain him, but he just flung her away into one of the furniture and turned his attention back to his father. His mother continued crying for him to stop, but he didn't listen, it simply drove him on. And with each hit he connected, the angrier he got at the defenseless old man.  
  
Someone had called the police; a neighbor perhaps, who heard the disturbance. He didn't know he didn't care; he just stared at his father's lifeless body, not quite comprehending all that had just happened. When they took him away, he didn't attempt any resistance, he didn't every try to run. Their neighbors were gathered outside. He didn't know if they were shocked or angry or both, he didn't look at any of them. He just looked down, his eyes never leaving the ground.  
  
Baek looked up. Tears were trailing down his face, but they were washed away by the rain. He turned to walk to where he parked his car. As he was about to cross the street, a black stretch limo pulled up in front of him.   
  
The black tinted windows slid down and a voice came from inside it. "Get inside Mr. Doo San."  
  
Baek's eyes sharpened, struggling to see the face hidden by the shadows. "I already have a ride, thank you very much."  
  
The figure handed him an envelope over the window. "I wasn't asking Mr. Doo San."  
  
Baek opened the envelope and pulled out a file. It contained everything about him, including his police records. "What do you want?"  
  
"Get inside and we'll discuss some business." The door opened and Baek cautiously stepped inside, sitting on the seat directly opposite to the mysterious gentleman. The water on his wet clothes settled on the leather seat of the interior.  
  
Once inside, Baek could finally get a clear view of the person. It was a man who looked to be in mid-twenties. He could tell he was Japanese and was wearing an expensive purple suit. Baek handed the rain-soaked file back to him. "Who are you?"  
  
"Drive." The man said to the driver and turned his attention back to Baek. Then taking the file and not breaking his stare, the man started. "My name is Mishima Kazuya, perhaps you've heard of me."  
  
Of course Baek heard of him. Competing in underground pit fights all over Seoul, he's heard the name of Kazuya tossed around quite a lot. From what he could gather, he used to be involved in pit fights himself, until he inherited his father's company by throwing the old man off a cliff. Now he's the leader of a criminal organization that's spread all through out the globe. Baek finally spoke up. "Yeah, I know who you are."   
  
"I've seen you fight Mr. Doo San, you were particularly brutal. I could use someone of your skill." He paused for a bit. "I came here Mr. Doo San to ask you to do a job for me."  
  
"And if I refuse?" Baek asked. He already knew the answer, but he had to hear it.  
  
"I understand that you weren't exactly approved for release from police custody Mr. Doo San." Kazuya stated plainly. "But enough small talk," he handed Baek another file, "here is the assignment I want you to do."  
  
"Hold on, I didn't even say that I agreed to this." Baek raised his voice, not accepting the file.  
  
"It's not a choice Mr. Doo San." Kazuya said coldly, looking him in the eye. Baek thought about it for a while and knew the man was right. Baek took the file from his hands. He opened the file and saw a picture of a Chinese-looking man, smiling; a small dojo in the background. Kazuya then resumed talking. "I want you to kill him. His name is Marshall Law. That dojo in the background is his; I want you to destroy it. I need that property." Baek felt the car stop. "All the information you need on him is in that file. I'll contact you for further instructions." Kazuya then reached over to the door and opened it. "Don't worry Mr. Doo San you will be paid handsomely for your services."  
  
Baek stepped out of the limo and was now back outside the cemetery; it had stopped raining. He again started heading back towards his car, the file in his hand. He got inside and threw the file on the passenger seat. He leaned his head back and sighed. "What have I gotten myself into." 


	2. A trip to the land of magic mirrors or t...

Baek looked down to the small city below them. They were still high up enough that thin wisps of clouds could still he seen. He'd never been outside of South Korea before, least of all to America. Though the circumstances of him going there were anything but pleasurable, he couldn't help but be a little excited. He looked at his companions sitting to his left. They were both reading magazines, keeping to them selves. They never really talked to him the whole trip; not even to each other really. The only time they said anything to him was to tell him what they had to do once they got to America. They seemed nonchalant about the prospect of traveling here, Baek thought, it must be one of the benefits of working with a rich organization like the Mishima Zaibatsu; you get to travel a lot.   
  
After they landed in the airport, they met up with two other men. They were from the American branch of the Mishima Conglomerate. All four of them were wearing business suits, looking very professional. Baek felt a little out of place wearing a brown leather vest and a pair of faded blue jeans. A large white van was waiting for them outside. The driver told Baek to get in the front seat with him, while the other four went inside through the back. They rode for a little over half an hour to the next city. It was a smaller city, Baek noted, less dense than the first one. They finally arrived at a small dojo.  
  
"This is it." The driver said to him. "All the surrounding buildings have already sold their property to Mr. Mishima." He explained, pointing to the other buildings in the area. "This Law punk's being a pain in the ass; it's up to you to take care of that."  
  
Beak nodded and then proceeded to step outside. His two earlier companions also went out and followed him. As they got to the door, they could hear the shouts of the students practicing inside. Baek took a deep breath before entering and hardened his resolve, if I'm going to do this, I better do this right. He leaned back to the wall just inside the door and looked at the students there. They ranged from white belts to colored belts to first dan black belts, but he didn't see Law anywhere.   
  
One of the student instructors approached them. He was a black belt and spoke in a tone too forced to be sincerely polite. "Can I help you gentlemen?"  
  
Baek scowled at him. "Yes, I'd like to challenge the head instructor of this dojo."  
  
The young man was slightly taken back, not expecting that response at all. His face grew a little more serious. "I'm afraid Master Law isn't here at this time."  
  
"And when will Marshall Law be back?" Baek asked, trying hard to make his voice sound harsh and cold.  
  
"I can't say, his work schedule's very hectic." The student answered, whose face was now growing more hateful towards Baek.  
  
"Can't say, or won't?" Baek challenged loudly, making sure all the other students heard him as well. "Tell your 'master' when he arrives, that he is a coward and that his 'Marshall' art is nothing but a joke."   
  
By now, the young man in front of him could no longer contain his anger and shouted back. "Is that what you think? Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and fight me asshole?"  
  
Baek smiled, amused. "What's your name boy?"  
  
"Yaz" The student answered through clenched teeth.  
  
"Well Yaz, from what I can see, you're not even worth my time. So be a good little bitch and relay my message to Law instead."  
  
Without a word, Yaz struck at Baek's face with a hard punch. Baek was unprepared for it and got hit, but he did anticipate the kick the young student was about to do and blocked it. His temper flared from being hit and started retaliating with his own barrage of attacks. His two companions had also provoked the other students and soon an all out brawl erupted through out the small dojo. The three other Mishima employees came in bringing canisters of gasoline. Baek and the two men had handled the less than skilled students very easily, with Baek taking out the more advanced fighters including Yaz.  
  
As the five men poured gasoline all over the dojo, the students started running for their lives. Those who couldn't either limped or were helped out by the other students. Outside, Baek spotted the injured Yaz lying on the ground. Baek stood over the injured young student. "Tell Law that Baek has called him out; and if he has any balls at all, he'll come to the second Iron Fist tournament." Baek walk towards his companions in the van as the flames consumed the dojo building behind him. 


	3. A field of memories or the last showdown

It was at Kazuya's dojo in Japan that he trained in. He trained there almost everyday to prepare himself mentally and physically for the upcoming fight with Marshall Law. Kazuya had arranged the tournament in a way that he would not have to fight the other competitors. That way, Baek could concentrate solely in killing Marshall and not have to worry about advancing through the ranks.  
  
He rested for a little while from hitting the punching bag all that morning. Sweat had soaked his uniform. Baek tried to catch his breath, making sure to breathe in and out carefully. Kazuya had it all planned out. He was going to kill Law, Bruce was going to kill the Hong Kong detective Lei, Anna Williams was going to stop her sister, and Kazuya himself was going to kill his newly resurfaced father Mishima Heihachi. Baek felt as if he was part of something; like he was part of a family again, in its own twisted way. Baek smiled at that thought. A family; he could only wish. Thoughts of his father crept in again. When he was younger, his father would teach him the art of Tae Kwon Do in their own dojo. He was so happy back then. He had vowed to perfect his art to honor his father. Baek snapped out of his thoughts and went back to practicing on the punching bag again.  
  
His fight with Marshall was tomorrow. He needed a good rest that night. He would practice for a few more hours then go sight-seeing for a bit. That way he would not overwork his muscles. He had never been to Tokyo before, and now was a good chance to see some of the city while calming his nerves for the upcoming match. He had never killed anyone after his father. He still wasn't sure if he could do it again.   
  
  
Baek stood on the grassy fields facing his newly arrived opponent. He could see Marshall's eyes shoot daggers at him. It was an undisclosed location. No one else knew where they would fight other than himself, Law and Kazuya. This way, there would be no one to come to see, no one to witness the killing of Marshall Law.  
  
The two men faced each other. There was no exchange of words. Both of them knew there was no need for it. They came here to fight and that was that. A wind blew across the fields as both men got into their fighting stances, never once taking their eyes off each other. They circled around each other for a few seconds, waiting for the other to make the first move. They did not go at it blindly like they normally would have. This was not a fight about personal glory, this was a fight to the death; and they both knew it.  
  
Law attacked first, delivering a flurrying succession of punches. Baek blocked all of them but was unprepared for the kick coming upwards to his chin when Law executed a double somersault. He rolled to one knee on the ground, spitting up blood. He looked towards Law who was in his defensive stance, getting ready for retaliation. He got back to his feet and just after getting into stance immediately got on the attack. Doing a high low combination of kicking techniques that Law could not block all at once. This time Law was the one knocked off his feet, spitting up blood.  
  
This happened during the duration of the fight. One fighter getting on the offensive while the other blocked and then vice versa. Sometimes they hit, sometime they missed. But after long hours of exchanging blows and attacks, both bloodied and bruised men were visibly tired. Baek especially was getting exhausted. Killing Law was not as easy as he had thought.   
  
Baek decided to finally end it and drew a quick burst of energy from inside him. The long succession of kicks ended with roundhouse kick that landed on Law's shoulder. Instead of feeling him fall down though, Baek felt a sharp pain in his right knee. Marshall had caught the kick and elbowed his knee; twisting it further, and also the other one, as Baek spun down towards the ground. He was now totally defenseless. Law, who was equally exhausted, forgot all about technique for a moment and started attacking with simple but hard kicks and punches.   
  
Amidst the brutal beating at the hands of Law, Baek smiled a little bit. What a fitting end, he thought; you will finally have your justice father. His mind lapsed to the time he beat his handicapped father to death. By this time, Law had finally gotten a hold of his senses and stopped, dropping to the ground. Father, Baek called out in his mind, don't stop now, end my misery.  
  
"No, I won't kill you." Law said in-between sharp intakes of breaths. "I'm better than that."  
  
Yes you are father. Thank you. Baek's tears mixed with the blood and fell to the grass. 


	4. A new beginning or the end

Baek sat down on a bench on one of the parks in Tokyo. He stayed there for a few more months to recover from knee surgery, as well as other injuries. Marshall Law had rushed him to a hospital nearby after their fight. During the rest of the tournament he was out of commission. He worried a little bit about what Kazuya might do, but as he had heard, Kazuya was killed by his own father and thrown into a volcano. Some bonds of hatred, he supposed, grow deeper than he could ever imagine.   
  
He opened a locket and smiled. Inside was a picture of him with his mother and father. It was taken when he was a boy. He got up and walked out of the park and into the bright bustling city streets of Tokyo. He loved the city, but he missed his own home in Seoul; his old home, where his mother was still living. Baek wondered how his mother was now doing. He should go to her and try to patch things up with her. It wasn't too late to salvage their relationship. Maybe he could help her out again by restarting his father's dojo. He could help out the kids and orphans in his old neighborhood. Yes, Baek thought as he greeted the warm rays of the sun on his skin, that was what he was going to do.  
  
The End  
  
author's note: please read and review. flames are welcomed as I feed on hatred. 


End file.
